


a grave to bury you

by orphan_account



Category: Alias Grace (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Drabble, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 18:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12710181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The doctor asks her, “what are you thinking of, Grace?”“The weather’s turned cold again,” she answers without looking away from her needlework; however, this is a lie. The answer is always the same.





	a grave to bury you

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for any typos.
> 
> title source: [secure yourself - indigo girls.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P1IWN3wjEEg)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The doctor asks her, “what are you thinking of, Grace?”

“The weather’s turned cold again,” she answers without looking away from her needlework; however, this is a lie. The answer is always the same. She considers telling him that the guards burned her gloves last winter, but decides it isn’t what he needs to hear. If she does tell him, his brows will pull together with concern, and he will gently inquire as to what else she has endured within the confines of the penitentiary, as he always does. And she has grown tired of it, and of him: his sympathy is worth nothing to her.

It would do little good to tell him where her mind is. She often tells him that she doesn’t remember her dreams, but she knows that, when she wakes up with an ache in her chest and throat and finds it’s grown slightly harder to move, she dreamt of Mary. The details escape her, but she knows it deep down. There is no one else in this world who could make her feel so heartsick with grief.

She can feel his eyes on her; she knows he wants to peel back her layers to peer inside her, to dissect her and pull her apart like everyone else, even if his methods differ from those she’s been exposed to, but she would have simply shed her skin if only Mary asked it of her—and the difference between the two of them, Grace remembers once again, is that Mary wanted nothing of her, and would not have asked or demanded such a thing from her. Her heart twinges, her grief stirring.

It is clear the doctor is holding back, by the way he presses his lips together and adjusts his grip on his pencil. He wants to dig for more detail, for _more_ , like every man has every wanted of a woman— _more, more, more_ —but she knows that he will never understand. He wants to know what ghosts are haunting her today, and whether or not she is that much closer to bearing her soul to him.

And here’s the truth: Mary’s ghost is laughing at him, for Grace will only ever tell him just enough to keep him sated, and nothing more. She must be, because the sun comes out from behind a cluster of dark clouds and winks at her as it spits through the dust-speckled glass, and her heart is suddenly light as a feather.

_Let me in_ , Mary had said once; Grace smiles, puts down her needlework, and goes to open the window.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
